When They Fall
by KMD88
Summary: Fandral the Dashing is a valiant warrior, brave and true with a penchant for finding trouble among beautiful women. When Fandral scorns the wrong woman he is exiled to Midgard. Upon his arrival he comes across a bartender by the name of Annie Watts. After myseterious meteors crash to Earth, Fandral takes it upon himself to be the hero. Rated M for adult content. FandralxOC
1. 1: Prologue

**A/N:** This is a spin-off to Chasing the Storm so I highly suggest reading that first to clear any confusion because I do reference characters and events from that story. s/8744533/1/Chasing-the-Storm

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**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything related to the Marvel universe.

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**1 **

His time on Midgard had been short the last time that he had graced her fertile soils. Loki had gone mad with power and Thor was in trouble. Naturally he, Hogun, Volstagg and Sif came to his rescue. What would Thor ever do without them? His visit had been mere hours and while everything was alien and strange-much stranger than the hundreds of years that passed between visits-he and his companions were on a mission to save Thor. It was not to frolick in Midgardian fields.

Though his time then was much more bearable. At least a curse was not placed upon him preventing him from returning home to Asgard. Or, travel to other worlds for that matter. No, he had become a prisoner on Midgard.

And whatever for? A triste with a beautiful maiden! He should hardly be held accountable for what happened. What was it she had told him? Oh, yes. That he did not understand the meaning of love. What poppycock! If anyone understood what love was it was he. He loved love, their was nothing more in the nine realms that Fandral didn't enjoy as much as love.

Inhaling sharply, Fandral took off into the setting sun toward civilization in hope of finding someone who could help. He only knew of two people on Midgard that could assist him. Thor had made mention of a shield of some sort but he wasn't exactly sure how a shield would be of use to him at the moment.

No, he had to find Jane Foster or Hayden Waltham. They were not only exceedingly smart women for Midgardians-not to mention rather attractive-but they also had connections to Thor and Loki. While Loki may only find humor in his current predicament his path to redemption would at least require that he informed Thor of that wretched woman's curse. That was the last time he would ever touch an enchantress.

Oh, come now dear lad. Let us not get ahead of ourselves, he warned himself knowing full well that he had no intentions of keeping such a promise. He would, however, make certain to steer clear of that enchantress. Shame he could not recall her name though.

Frowing, Fandral could see the city growing closer. He was appalled at the loud, abrasive sounds and offensive smells that emitted from within. This will most definitely be a tale turned to song for the bards, he mused as he padded through the desert wasteland, one that all of Asgard will regale in. The tale of the brave Fandral and his-

A loud, blaring sound stilled him in his thoughts as two bright lights blinded him. He rose a gloved hand to his face, watching as the contraption swerved around him. A young man leaned outside of it and tossed some sort of soft, white container at him, splashing a red, sweet-smelling liquid all over his leather vest.

"Get out of the road you freak," the boy shouted as he pulled his head back inside and and continued toward the city.

Stunned, Fandral wiped off what he could of the strange liquid, bringing his gloves to his mouth. He slowly extended his tongue, touching the tip to his finger and smacked the cold, sweet taste around. He grimaced, uncertain of what it was and unsure if he enjoyed it or not. He did not care for having the drink thrown all over him.

He brought his gaze down at the well-worn pavement of black and white. Ah, this must be a Midgardian road. It was not particularly grand and quite the eye sore, he thought on a frown. He knelt to inspect it, his sticky gloved fingers grazed the ground when another contraption similar to the previous one emitted the same loud noise and swerved around him.

Fandral stood up deciding that it would be best to stay off the Midgardian roads and stick to the sand and brush instead. Ahead the city grew brighter as the sun died down-how peculiar it was that Midgard only had one sun-and he noticed that almost every building was alight.

"What is this magic?" he whispered aloud in awe. "The amount of candles they must go through must be appalling!"

His awe was cut short at the sudden rumbling of his stomach. Fandral frowned but pushed forward. Ignoring the ache in his feet as well he desperately began to hope that he was not on a fools errand. Yet, every inch that the city grew closer he found himself realizing that his task might be beyond even him.


	2. 2: Of Booze and Gods

**A/N**: Now that Chasing the Storm is finished with my focus will be on When They Fall until November 1st where the sequel to CtS will be my project for Nanowrimo. This is a spin-off so you do not need to read CtS to understand this story but I do recommend it because there will be reoccurring characters and mention of topics that happened during that story. But, I'll stop talking and let you read what I hope to be a story that you guys will enjoy just as much as Chasing the Storm.

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**Of Booze and Gods**

**Twenty-Four Hours Earlier**

"Yo, Annie! I need four long island iced teas."

Anita Watts scrunched up her face at the sound of one of the bar regulars everyone called Lucky. For the four years that Annie had been a bartender at Sal's Bar & Grill, she never knew why they called him that. She suspected Lucky's real name was hard to pronounce from the thick Russian accent he sported so it was easier to use a nickname.

She gave the scrawny strawberry-blond a tired smile, and started to fill a tumbler with broken ice. Lucky slid over to where she began mixing the ingredients, topping it off with a a hint of lemon juice. His bright blue eyes watched her shake the tumbler back and forth, stirring the blend of beverages together.

Annie's brows curled together and she asked, "uh, what's up Lucky?"

He flashed her a half-smile, "I just wanted to say you look very beautiful tonight."

Annie doubted it. Her stark black hair wasn't even washed since she overslept and ran out of time to shower before work. She threw it up in a ridiculously high bun and called it good. What little makeup she was able to put on was during the bumpy bus ride. She must have stabbed herself in the eye with her eyeliner at least ten times.

But, she could have walked into work wearing a plastic bag and Lucky would still find a way to hit on her. She fluttered her thick, long lashes and forced a smile. "Lucky, you know that I don't date customers."

He threw up his hands defensively. "All I am doing is paying a pretty girl a compliment."

Annie eyed him suspiciously as she poured the concoction into a pitcher. She finished it off with a soda and then filled four tall glasses with the long island iced tea. Gingerly she placed a slice of cut lemon on the rim of each glass.

"That's twenty-seven, fifty-two," she added in her head, entering the amount into the register.

Lucky pulled out a fifty. He slid it across the damp bar. Annie plucked it up, and put it in the till, pulling out his change. He put his hand on Annie's arm.

"No, no," he shook his head, "keep the change."

Annie gave him am exasperated look, then sighed, "Lucky, that is almost as much as your drinks were."

He shrugged taking the server's tray she handed him with a grin. "Don't worry about it."

Annie resisted all urges to keep from rolling her eyes. She flashed a small smile and politely thanked him shutting the register harder than it needed to be. Without looking to see if Lucky was still watching her she walked across the other side of the bar.

She made a note to avoid Lucky the rest of the night. Lately he had been growing a little more persistent. Annie wasn't exactly sure how to keep politely denying him without resorting to punching him in the face. She needed her job too much to lose it over an asshole like Lucky.

Okay, so he wasn't always a jerk. He usually was rather timid and through their talk about the weather would occasionally slip in a compliment or two. Overall, he wasn't much of a bother. Over the past few months she noticed the change in his demeanor from the way he approached women in general to the way he even dressed.

When she first met him he had square-framed glasses and wore khaki slacks. Annie was vaguely reminded of a bookkeeper or a librarian. He now dressed like the typical American douchebag. His jeans were a size too tight, and his tanktops hung low. He styled his strawberry-blond hair into a failed pompadour that laid a little flat on the right, and his glasses were thick-framed and black. Annie guessed his time in America must have infected him.

To get him off her skirts, she simply told him she didn't date customers. It wasn't exactly true. The handbook at Sal's Bar & Grill said it was discouraged but nothing kept Annie from bringing home a tall, dark, and handsome stranger now and then. Nothing except for Jess.

Jessica was Annie's younger seventeen-year-old sister. She was put under Annie's guardianship four years ago when their parents died in the New York attacks. It was hard at first, especially because Annie was too preoccupied with getting fucked up then taking care of a then thirteen-year-old sister. Annie's wake up call came to her when Jess had ran away and even her best friend, Serah had no idea where she was.

Hours later Annie found Jess at their parents cemetery, heavily sedated. In the end, nothing serious happened. Jess explained she couldn't sleep and in the middle of the night took off, ending up at their parent's headstones. After that, Annie sobered up quick, which meant no more random guys and no more drinking or drugs-except for the occasional cigarette. Jess was all she had left. She didn't need the company of random strangers in her bed anymore.

Though, with Jess almost eighteen in a few months and graduating from High School in less than a week, Annie worried. She knew Jess was a lot smarter than she was when it came to peer pressure but that still didn't keep her from fretting over what Jess was doing every time she went out or Annie had to work.

When she wasn't pouring drinks, or avoiding some drunks flirtatious advances she was thinking of Jess. Her rebellion phase was nothing like Annie's-thank God!-but she liked to break curfew and recently went from telling Annie she was going out rather than asking. It was hard for Annie to know where to draw the parent and the sister line. Which was why she was just left to worry.

Annie and Jess were almost complete opposites that if it wasn't for the dark hair and abnormally large brown eyes no one would guess they were related. Where Annie was short at a measly 5'3, her younger sister towered her at almost 5'8-without heels. Jess kept her hair short, styled in layers at her shoulder and dyed a bright coral pink at the bottom compared to Annie's plain black hair that piled in waves down her back. Jess looked almost exotic, with her porcelain skin and makeup always applied hours before she left anywhere when Annie had dark olive skin and her makeup was typically applied in haste while waiting for the bus.

Still, despite their differences Annie would do anything for her sister. And, that included getting rid of her past life which she was fine with. It kept her from letting guys like Lucky into her bed.

The night came to an end, the last of the completely wasted were sent home via taxi cab. Annie set to cleaning behind the bar with another one of the bartenders, Max. She and Max didn't talk much, and when they did he always replied in short-usually yes or no-answers. Sometimes it bothered her but after the bar doors closed that night she was grateful for the silence between them.

It had been rather busy and Annie was ready to get off her feet. Max gathered the tips and began to quietly count to himself. He split the money into six sections, smiling after he recounted each pile. He then handed the paperclipped piles of bills to everyone that worked that night.

"Wow," gasped Martie, one of the waitresses who was over-the-top upbeat 24/7. It didn't surprise Annie to find out that Martie was a cheerleader at the local university. "This is the most I think I've made in one night that wasn't the night before a holiday!"

Next was Marcus, the cook, then Sophie, one of the line cooks, and Christine, the other waitresses who took their share in tips with wide smiles. Finally, Max plopped a heavier than usual stack of money into Annie's hand. The paperclip was cool against her palm as she shifted the bills in her grasp. Quietly, Annie counted herself, pleased with the total despite that a small chunk of it came from Lucky.

Pocketing her money into the black smock she wore, Annie pulled out her cellphone to let Jess know that she was head home. Her fingers slid back and forth on the small screen, sighing in frustration as she corrected we'll to the original word she intended to use: well. Her thumb hit the send button and she slipped the phone into her small apron and set to finishing the few final tasks before anyone could leave.

Martie asked if she wanted a ride home, but Annie politely declined. As much as she hated the bus, she couldn't stand Martie more. The young girl was nice enough, sure, but she was mind-numbingly stupid.

One time she asked Annie if the President was related to Osama. When Annie asked her to clarify she blinked her pretty honey-glazed eyes and frowned. "You know," she sighed, taking a drag from her cigarette leaving a beige print behind, "cause they have the same name."

There was only so much stupidity Annie could take. That had been her line. Ever since then she tried to talk to Martie as little as possible.

So, she took the bus. It wasn't so bad. Sometimes it smelled like someone took their shoes off but overall it was always quiet on her way home. Once in a while she would encounter the late-night weirdos. Despite their tweaking out or drunken ramblings they didn't bother Annie much.

A half hour after her shift ended, Annie arrived in the small fourplex she rented when she was living with her then boyfriend, Gerad. In the end he took everything from her broken heart to the jewelry her mother gave her leaving Annie the lease and rent to deal with for the tiny, two bedroom apartment.

It was a typical apartment with a laundromat occupying the floor underneath Annie's. People used to do laundry at the strangest hours, waking Annie over wet clothes tumbling in the dryer. It got to the point that she put up a fake notice informing the remaining two households not to do laundry after eleven. A few years later and the sign was still there allowing her to sleep. Then Annie got the job at the bar and it didn't matter anyways.

Yawning, Annie tossed her fake leather purse onto the breakfast counter and sorted through the mail. Bills. Bills. Junk mail. Bills. Too tired to care, she set the stack of envelopes to the side and turned off the kitchen light. Adjusting to the sudden darkness, Annie blinked a few times until familiar vague shapes, like the couch she found on the curb with her then boyfriend Jax and the floor lamp next to it came into view. With her hand on the wall she guided herself down the small hallway to her bedroom.

Again Annie yawned, peeling off her faux leather jacket and tossing it to the floor. She kicked off her boots, letting them land in front of her door and slipped out of her skinny jeans. They pooled around her ankles and she pulled them off at the bottom, plopping onto the worn-out queen-sized mattress. Without changing from her plain white tank top, Annie crawled under the blankets, sighing in comfort.

One eye popped open. Of course I have to pee, she grumbled to herself tossing the blankets over her legs and slamming her feet onto the floor. On her way to the bathroom she saw a faint sliver of light coming from underneath Jess's door. Intrigued, Annie twisted the knob and slowly stuck her head inside Jess's room.

Her white walls were covered from floor to ceiling in band memorabilia and magazine clippings of famous actors. With what little room there was a pale pink dresser was pushed against the wall, covered in makeup products and unorganized cds. A pressed cherry wood bookshelf nuzzled against it filled with candles and various scented soaps she acquired over the years. A few books stacked neatly on the bottom shelf, worn out from too much handling.

Pushed against the window was Jess's bed. Underneath the heavy zebra-printed comforter was Jess, texting on her phone. Annie leaned against the doorway, while Jess continued to text on her phone not even bothering to look up. Clearing her throat, Annie knocked on the fake wooden frame.

"Dude, it's almost four in the morning," she pointed out, stifling a yawn. "What are you doing awake?"

Jess shrugged, her eyes fixated on the screen in front of her. She twitched her thin nose and set the phone down. "I just can't sleep."

Annie frowned. It seemed that Jess's insomnia was only getting worse. "Do you want to try and switch medications? I think-"

"No," Jess interrupted. She rubbed her long fingers over her face. "I didn't even take my pills." Annie's eyebrows furrowed together. "I haven't been for almost a month."

That was news to Annie. "Why not?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level. No wonder why Jess wasn't sleeping.

Jess hesitated. A purple light from her phone blinked. She picked it up, the screen glowing on her face. "I just don't want too."

Annie sighed but decided not to push it. She was tired and could deal with it when she didn't feel like shoving Jess's pills down her throat. "Well, try to get some sort of sleep. You have school in a few hours."

Jess grunted, but said nothing. Annie grimaced, closing the door behind her. She tried not to let Jessica's attitude bother her. After all, she was a teenager and she definitely didn't treat Annie the way that Annie used to treat their parents. So, there was that.

Yawning, Annie headed toward the bathroom, stepping on the cold black and white tile. Just as she flicked on the switch she remembered what the day was. It explained why Jess couldn't sleep, and why she would rather not dream that night. It was the anniversary of their parent's death.

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Fandral the Dashing. Swashbuckling hero with a penchant for romance. Brave, strong...handsome. What more could any woman ever want?

Fandral winked at his reflection in the handheld mirror. He smoothed out his pointed goatee with two fingers, smiling brilliantly when he was finished. It was no wonder why women were always falling at his feet.

"Someone please take that mirror away before Fandral begins to kiss his reflection," sighed Sif, waving her hand in the air.

Fandral set the mirror down on the table in front of him. He flashed the beautiful Asgardian warrior his most practiced smile. "Come now fair Lady Sif, there is no need to by coy about your jealousy."

Sif scoffed, her long brown hair trickled down her narrow shoulders. "Fandral, the only thing I am jealous of is your ability to keep your hair from falling out of your eyes."

Volstagg grunted. After all the years that Fandral had known the portly red-bearded Asgardian he was never certain if he was laughing or not when he made that pig-like sound. Fandral turned from his long-time friend and ally with a crooked smile beneath his finely curled mustache.

He started to speak when Thor, the God of Thunder and King of Asgard entered the banquet room. Thor dressed casually, in a dark gray robe with his long ashen blond hair tied into a lose ponytail. He held out his massive arms, his smile almost as wide.

"My friends," he beemed, slapping Hogun on the back of his shoulder. Their silent friend pursed his lips tightly together, nodding to Thor in return. The giant god barked a laugh, turning to where Fandral and Sif casually stood. "My Lady, look at how beautiful you grow in my absence," he smiled fondly, then to Lady Sif, "and Sif, look how pretty you are as well."

The empty dining hall was filled with laughter. Sif rolled her eyes, failing at hiding a smile as she looked away from Thor. He greeted Volstagg with a hearty handshake, cupping his hand over Volstagg's meaty claw.

Thor rarely left Asgard for very long. After losing the throne to the maddening witch, Karnilla, Thor took much more precautions when leaving to visit Jane Foster in Midgard. Fandral had only met the Midgardian beauty a few times, but each visit she was more radiant than the last. He could see why Thor was so taken with her. In fact, even his brother Loki, the god of mischief, was over-smitten with a Midgardian woman. Perhaps he should find a Midgardian of his own. It had been a long while since he had fallen for a mortal's charms.

After their brief hellos to one another Thor called for wine to be served. Drinks flowed, and music sang throughout the room. They regaled in tales of old, laughing at things that were not funny given the circumstances at the time. Fandral found his mind begin to wander as the spiced rum clouded his head. Thor seemed much happier being with Jane, and even Loki was somewhat bareable to be around thanks be to the prepossessing Hayden Waltham. He wondered if he would find a sense of solitude...

"Care for some grapes, my Lord?"

Fandral blinked from his thoughts and turned to the tender voice beside him. A smile slowly slid onto his face at the sight before him. Dark skin, with wide golden eyes that pooled underneath untrimmed bangs of silky, ebony locks. She was divine.

He leaned in close. She smelled of jasmine. He loved jasmine. "Why thank you, stunning goddess."

A scarlet flush swept over her cheeks. "I am no goddess, my name is Keidi."

"Have you ever seen the moon dance before, Keidi?" The beautiful woman before him shook her head, her eyes opened as far as they could go. "Come with me," he offered taking her small hand in his.

Keidi doatingly followed after, gathering the bottom of her white gown with her free hands. She moved gracefully, like a siren seducing its prey. He smiled over his shoulder at her, looking away when she flashed a shy grin his way. The coy ones were his favorite. There was so much fire inside them yearning to be ignited.

They walked hand-in-hand to the gardens were Lady Frigg, Thor's mother, was often seen tending to the flowers. The stars burned brightly, glowing against the black blanket that draped across the sky. The moons shined high, illuminating the path in front of them. A warm breeze scattered through the petals, rifling them together.

Keidi sped up, bumping into him. She giggled an apology. Fandral tugged her forward, slipping his arm around her slender waist. His fingers rested against her hip bone, pressing firmly against the thin fabric. He could feel Keidi's breathing grow shorter, but heavier. A smile played at the corner of his mouth. She was delectable, far more delicious than the wine being spilled into empty glasses.

Fandral led the enticing beauty to the gurgling fountain in the middle of the garden. Water spouted from the mouth of marble cherubs playing in the middle of the pooling liquid. Keidi frowned, looking up at Fandral with a quizzical expression.

"I have seen this fountain a million times. If not more," she pouted, returning her gaze to the clear, blue water.

Fandral held up a finger to his lips, then pointed to the sky. He pulled Keidi in front of him, wrapping his arms around her body. She titled her head upward, nuzzling under his chin, watching the vast night. A sigh passed through her lips and he felt her wiggle under his grasp.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her ear. "Just be patient," he whispered, "it is worth the wait."

As he brought his gaze to the sky the water shot up, high into the night. It cascaded in heavy drops, splashing into the pool below. Through the mist reflected one of the moons. The brilliant purple and pink hues spilled into the fountain, the reflection waved back and forth.

Keidi spun around in his hold, beaming up at him. "It truly is dancing!" she exclaimed, facing toward the water. "It is beautiful."

Fandral slid his hands up to her stomach, resting his palm against her abdomen. She inhaled sharply, tilting her neck with the nudge of his nose. His lips placed firmly on her neck, feeling the warm skin burn on his lips.

"I do hope you are told how beautiful you are every day," he breathed in between kisses. Keidi chewed on her bottom lip, moaning quietly. "You should be crowned among the stars, for all to see."

Keidi spun around, a sly smile planted on her plump cherry lips. She leaned her agile body against his. Fandral looked down into her illuminating, lurid gaze. Tonight would be a night for the bards to sing ballads of. Fandral the Dashing and his Divine Conquests. It even had a memorable title.

Yes, thought Fandral as he led Keidi from the gardens, it would be an entertaining night indeed.

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Annie woke feeling lightheaded and heavy. She laid in bed, pulling the flowery comforter that once belonged to her parents to her face. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes wishing she could smell the faint vanilla scent that always accompanied her mother. Instead all she breathed in was faded laundry detergent from the dollar store and stale cigarette smoke. Frowning, Annie pulled the blanket over her head, curling into the fetal position with her eyes shut tight.

She tried to not think of her parents very often. They died when Annie wasn't exactly on good terms with them and she never got to say goodbye. The reason they were in New York was because of her. They rarely left Rhode Island except to visit her during staged drop-bys. No one just drove to New York because they wanted to see the trees.

Annie curled her legs up to her chest. If she wasn't so stubborn they would have been on the other side of New York, far from the attacks with her. They could have gone to the movies or caught a play. Instead Annie was avoiding their calls so she could go with her then (and last) boyfriend, Alec to a party that ended up being canceled because of the attacks.

When Annie received the call that her parents had gone missing she threw herself into an unavoidable void. Her mind swirled with narcotics blurring out the constant stream of news reports and phone calls. Alec had been the one to answer the door to the police. She remembered thinking they were there to take in her, she panicked and fled out the fire escape.

While Annie was out, high on reef and a bottle of goldschlager dangling from her finger tips she found herself standing on a bridge over a small creek. There wasn't much she recalled from that night, everything molded together like drying clay, crumbling apart every time someone tried to fix it. The cool metal bridge pressed against her bare legs, and the summer breeze blew the cigarette smoke from her face. She vaguely remembered watching the cherry extinguish as it hit the rushing water.

Annie stood on the ledge of the bridge, setting the alcohol next to her, stripping off her leather jacket and letting it fall to the ground. She wobbly held onto the railing for support, digging her ankle-high boots into the ridges. When she had a steady grip, her eyes fell onto the dark water that gurgled beneath her.

Inhaling deeply, Annie closed her eyes. The wind tugged at her hair, pulling it free from the curves of her neck. Her cellphone pierced the air, the lyrical genius of Biggie Jay spat off into the night. She let it go to voicemail. It rang again.

"...and I can make your girl say things you wished you did cause I got dat whiskey-"

Annie pulled her phone from the pocket of her torn shorts, looking at the caller ID. Through slit eyelids she glared at the bright screen. Her heart slowed, and she carefully sat down on the ledge of the bridge. Annie rested her head against the cool, rusted metal and slid the phone up to her ear.

"Anita," choked the voice on the other end. It was small, and hard to hear. "You need to come home. It's all over the news."

Annie snapped her eyes open, shoving the blankets off of her face. She inhaled deeply and looked up at the ceiling fan above her. There was no point to wallow in the past. What done was done, and Annie had too much to do that day. Like, make sure Jess hadn't tried to skip school again.

Rolling out of bed she padded through the small apartment to the kitchen. The clock on the microwave blinked 3:33. Annie groaned. She hadn't meant to sleep her entire day away. If Jess skipped, then she skipped. There wasn't anything Annie could do considering her sister would be home within the next hour.

Yawning, Annie scratched the top of her head and pulled the fridge open. The light blinked on revealing the sparse contents inside. Several containers of tupperware stacked against one another, some of them from last month. She scrunched her nose, pushing them aside to see expired milk and a can of-she sniffed-oh god!

Gagging Annie tossed the putrid can of spoiled food. According to the label they were once beans but from the hair growing along the side she wouldn't be surprised if they started to talk. Her stomach rumbled. Annie made a face and closed the refrigerator door, grabbing the magnetic notepad off the front. She scribbled a few needed necessities deciding it was probably time to go grocery shopping. No wonder Jess was always at Serah's, Annie sullenly thought to herself.

She quickly showered and dressed, turning on the TV as she dried her hair. Flipping through the staticy channels Annie stopped when she saw an explosion on the news. She hit the back button, watching as the attractive news reporter explained that something had fallen from the sky. At first she thought it was a memorial piece they played every year on the day of the attacks. That was until the video switched over to a YouTube recording where people were shouting in French.

Annie turned off her hair dryer and reached for the remote, turning up the volume. Speculations said it was a meteor but Annie felt her throat tighten. What if it was another attack?

* * *

The pale light of the morning soaked the marble floors and spread to the satin sheets Fandral was tangled in. He rolled from the sun, tossing the blankets over his head. It was far too early to wake for the day. His head was still buzzing from the after effects of the alcohol he had needlessly consumed. Tiny daggers probed at his eyelids, sewing them shut.

The threads untangled as he blinked his long lashes when the overwhelming scent of lavender nearly suffocated him. He pulled his face free from the blankets and looked to his side. Long, sable locks spilled across his sheets, draped over slender shoulders. A faint smile crept onto Fandral's face at the memory of last nights expose.

He reached forward, gently placing a kiss to the castory skin of the woman's neck. She shifted against his touch, muttering lightly in pleasure. Fandral dug into his mind trying to recall her name as she rolled over to stare at him, her large ochre eyes blinked up at him through thick lashes. My she was breathtaking, he thought, cocking a smile to the side of his face.

"Good morning, my fair lady," he murmured, his voice laced with sleep.

The woman smiled, stretching her long arms above her head. "Good morning," she yawned, propping her head up with her hand. "Fandral the Dashing," she coyly teased, plopping back onto the pillow, "I can see why you've been given such a name."

"It was much easier to say than Fandral the Handsome and Brave Swashbuckling Rogue," he explained, an old joke that he had used for centuries that still made woman laugh. On cue, the exotic Asgardian chuckled murmuring in agreement.

"I should probably get to my duties," she slowly spoke, her eyes staring up at the arched ceiling. "Will I see you again soon?"

The inevitable question that every woman asked. Even after all the centuries that Fandral had bedded gorgeous damsels he never knew how to answer it. There were no guarantees in the nine realms, who was he to promise such things?

As was rehearsed he offered her a gentle smile. His hands brushed against her soft cheek, his lips pressed on the corner of her mouth. "A man such as I can never say no," he perfected.

Just as he expected the a crimson blush poured across the bridge of her nose. She kissed him firmly, her tongue tasting of stale ale. After she dressed and left for the day Fandral lounged in bed until one of the servants entered to clean. Shirtless, he gave the young pale-faced beauty an exaggerated wink and walked out onto the balcony.

The suns were hitting above the city skyline, casting a dark pink glow against the horizon. His hands wrapped around the golden railing already warm from the morning light. It was a wonderful start to the day. Fandral doubted anything could ruin it. Sighing, he entered inside his chambers, asking the curly blonde if she had ever seen a rose face the sun.


	3. 3: A Tale Worth Being Told

**A Tale Worth Being Told**

"My arse is redder than a virgin's first blush," grunted Volstagg sliding off his steed's back, landing with a huff on the dirt-packed ground. Dust swirled around his chaffed leather boots as he walked his horse toward a tree. "I need a break."

"A break!?" cried Thor, pulling the reigns of his horse tightly. The valiant beast reared her head back, snorting indignantly at the sudden movement. "The boarwolf waits for no one."

The redbearded Asgardian pinched his side, "and my arse does its own thinking and right now it needs a break."

Fandral chuckled to himself, pulling his mare, Firehooves, by the reigns. The black steed halted. He slid off onto the dirt-compacted ground, joining Volstagg by the tree. From behind him came the exasperated sigh of Thor as he rustled free from his horse's saddle. Not long after Hogun appeared beside them, silently staring into the small stream that gurgled several feet from their resting spot.

It was a fair morning, excellent for a ride. Thor had suggested they take the afternoon to hunt, which Fandral never turned down. If there was anything he enjoyed as much as women, it was the hunt. Nothing pumped his adrenaline like the sweat that trickled down his brow as he chased a foul beast through the woods. There was no greater sound than the pounding of hooves beneath his clenched thighs. No woman could give him the satisfaction that stirred whenever he pulled his sword from his sheath, no song as beautiful as the singing blade.

Though, as much as he enjoyed the hunt he enjoyed the company of his friends more. Never had he been surrounded by a band of such loyal companions. Each one would fiercely lay down their life if it meant saving another. The battles they fought side by side forged an unbreakable bond. They were brothers, if not by blood, but heart.

And, as all brothers do they partook in the delicacy of fine ale and cheered on Thor and Volstagg in a sudden match of strength. It was well known through the nine realms that Thor was stronger than most, but Volstagg had learned far more than Thor in the art of hand-to-hand combat in his advancing age. These were the sort of wrestling matches Midgardians would bleed their pockets dry to see.

"Are you certain you want to do this?" asked Thor getting into position. "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, Old Man."

Volstagg grunted, his pot-belly jiggled beneath his tangled beard. "Careful now Princess," he smirked, crouching low with both hands held out before him.

Thor flashed a knowing smile, then advanced toward Volstagg, lowering his head underneath the red-bearded Asgardian's arm. He lifted Volstagg over his shoulder, preparing to fall back when Volstagg grabbed Thor's calf with his meaty hands and pulled Thor off his feet. The King of Asgard fell onto his back as Volstagg quickly maneuvered out of the way, rolling onto his side.

"If I had known this is what you how you meant to spend your afternoons I would have stayed in the castles." All four Asgardian warriors turned their attention to Lady Sif as she hoped with ease off of her brown mare's saddle. "Though, it seems an unfair advantage fighting an Old Man," she teased, hiding a smile directed at Volstagg.

Both men clambered to their feet, wiping the dust off their knees. Volstagg grunted, pointed a chubby finger toward Sif. "And, you think you can do better?"

Sif flashed her gaze at Thor. "Of course."

"Wait," called out Fandral stepping in between the three of them. "It would be unwise for Sif and Thor to spar," he noted, turning to the dark raised brows on Sif's pointed stare. "Thor just lost to an Old Man after all."

"Oy," shouted Thor amidst the laughter, "do not think that because you are prettier than most woman I won't hit you, Fandral."

"I should like to see you try," he scoffed, grabbing Sif by her waist and pulling her in front of him.

The long-term friends continued their banter and charades, the thought of hunting gone from their minds. They sat on the grassy bank of the stream, dipping their feet into the cool water. It felt like old times before Odin's death and Thor had taken the throne. Fandral was certain he could have stayed in that moment forever.

"We should be heading back," interrupted Hogun's voice through the serenity among them. Always the voice of reason, he was.

"I suppose you are right," agreed Thor with a disheartened smile. "Though next time, we hunt."

They gathered their things and tightened the saddles on their horses. One by one the Asgardian warriors hopped onto the back of their steeds with ease Without another word they left the stream behind to return to their duties as protectors of the realm, where it seemed the laughter they shared was so few and far between.

* * *

Everywhere Annie went, people were whispering that the aliens had returned. The media did their best to cover up the New York Invasion but there were those who knew the truth. Annie was far from the attacks when they happened but she was there for the aftermath. No meteor storm would have created the damage that New York had succumbed to.

Grocery shopping had been a terrible idea. The stores were filled with panicky end-of-the-world nuts gathering all the supplies they'd need to survive. Annie had seen enough apocalyptic films to know that hoarding was pointless. Eventually, you run out and if you don't then someone was bound to find your stuff. It never ended well when someone found your stuff.

By the time Annie had an armful of groceries to take home it was almost time for her shift at the bar. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she still hadn't eaten at all that day. Sighing, Annie decided to make a quick sandwich on her way out. She could eat at the bus stop.

"Annie!" exclaimed Jess as she unlocked the front door. Her younger sister pulled it wide open, smiling from ear-to-ear.

Annie slit her eyes, staring at Jess's unusual exuberant attitude. "What is it?" she slowly asked, shutting the front door with the heel of her foot.

Jess took a bag from Annie's arms and carried it to the kitchen. She started to unpack the groceries, putting them away as she pulled them out. Scrapping her teeth across the bottom of her lip, Annie turned the corner and raised both of her brows.

Her sister glanced up. "W-what?" she stuttered, holding a carton of milk in her hand.

Carefully, Annie set the remaining bag on the breakfast nook and put her hands on her hips. "Who are you and what have you done with Jessica?"

Jess rolled her eyes, putting the milk into the fridge. She pulled out the expired container and shook it. Clumps hit against the side. Both Annie and Jess scrunched their noses and frowned.

Holding the milk as far from her as she could, Jess dropped it into the trashcan. "Ugh," she gagged, quickly closing the lid with a slam. "How old is that?"

"When were you dating that Mikey kid?"

Jess knotted her brows together. "In February..."

Annie shrugged. "That's gross."

"Oh my god, Annie!" exclaimed Jess, stifling a twisted smile. "It's June."

"I said it was gross," defended Annie, holding her hands in front of her. Jess shook her head, crumpling the paper bag. "So, guess what happened at school today!?"

Annie pulled out several cans of corn, piling them onto the counter as Jess stacked them into a cupboard. "What happened at school?" she asked, wondering if Jess had heard anything about the meteor strike in Europe.

"Captain America and Iron Man and that other one...Bird Man?" She scrunched her nose in thought and shook her head, continuing, "anyways, they came for our assembly in remembrance of the attack."

Annie chewed on her bottom lip. She wasn't sure why that would excite Jess as much as it did. All day Annie kept her mind preoccupied so she wouldn't think of her parents. In the end, all she could do was think of her parents which left her in an overcast mood. She figured Jess would have been the same.

Instead her younger sister was speaking in animated tones, her hands wildly flinging in random directions. She put away the groceries so fast that Annie hadn't even realized they were done. Slowly, she pulled her hand out of the empty bag, and neatly folded it against the countertop. Jess tore it from her hands, tossing it into the trash.

"So, I thought I would go. If it's okay with you."

Annie blinked. "If what is okay?"

Her sister's smile materialized into a firm frown. "Ugh," she whined, stomping her foot. "I swear it's like you never listen to what I say."

"Sorry, I've just-" Annie let her words fade. She wasn't in the mood to explain herself. "Just make sure you're home at curfew."

Jess rolled her eyes. "I told you, it doesn't start until midnight. Please, Annie I think it would be really important for me to go." Her tone softened as her gaze moved rapidly back and forth. "It's a memorial at Stark Towers. It'll be safe and I'll be with Serah's family."

"Just...be safe," she muttered, tugging her hair behind her ear. Jess slowly grinned. "If you do need..." her eyes dragged to the clock on the microwave. "Oh! I'm going to be late for work."

Without even saying goodbye, Annie quickly turned on her heel and started for the door. Her stomach grumbled as the lock clicked shut. Great, she thought jogging down the stairs, guess I'll have to eat at work.

* * *

The castle walls were brilliantly lit as shadows danced from the painted frames that decorated the halls. Music lingered from the banquet room, as laughter poured from the opened doors, flooding the hallway that Fandral stood in. He leaned against the wall, standing beside a marble statue of what looked like a flower but might have been a euphemism of sorts. He wasn't certain but he did know it was awful. Lady Frigga's tastes in art was not a strong suit of hers.

Sighing, he brought a goblet filled with wine to his lips and swigged heartily. The taste was bitter as it slid down his wetted tongue. Fandral made a face peering into its contents when he heard footsteps approaching.

Curious, he looked up flinging his brows up at the sight of one of the handmaidens he had a round with in tangled sheets. My, she was beautiful, he thought to himself as he watched her walk his way. A coy smile planted firmly on her lips as she passed him, his head tilted so he could better stare at her magnificent rump.

Her hair was the color of autumn just as the trees lost their vibrant green. It swayed down her back with each swing of her slender hips. Fandral thought of running his fingers through the red tresses, remembering what it was like to watch her hair spill around her as she fell onto her back and into his bed.

"My lord," she curtsied, grabbing a handful of her skirts so that he could see her long, slender legs through the fabric.

He smiled, taking her hand in his and placing a small kiss to the inside of her palm. "My goddess," he replied, pulling her hand from his lips. "You look radiant this fair night."

"Thank you," she blushed, pursing her thick lips together. "Why are you not enjoying the festivities?"

Fandral thought of an answer he might give her. He hadn't known exactly why her stood in the halls rather than drowning in wine and bosoms alike. It was a much better time than sulking beside a statue that may or may not have been a woman's flower.

He took one last drink from his goblet and set it down beside the statue. "I was awaiting the chance to see your divine beauty," he finally replied, taking her arm in his.

"Actually, Fandral," she interrupted stopping him mid-step, "I was hoping to show you something." He titled his head, frowning slightly. "In my chambers," she slyly added, fluttering her thick lashes over dark blue eyes.

"Lead the way," he bowed, following close behind her.

They walked through the halls in silence. The handmaiden shifted her hands between the folds of her skirts. He reached for her wrist, tangling his fingers between hers. She sighed beside him, easing her nerves as he brushed his fingers back and forth along her soft skin.

Several moments later they reached a small door. The handmaiden released Fandral's hold and grabbed for the knob, pushing the door wide open. She gestured with her chin that he enter. He offered her his most charming of smiles and stepped inside, hearing the door close behind him.

The room was fairly simple. A fire roared to life, creating long shadows across the stone floor. In the corner nestled a wooden table set with two glasses and a bottle of wine. The bed was pushed against the wall furthest from the closed window. Underneath the sheets something stirred.

Fandral looked behind him to see the redheaded vixen was no where to be seen. Licking at his lips, he turned his attention to the stirring under the blankets, exhaling when they dropped to reveal a woman dressed in transparent silks. Her dark hair waved down her succulent, aeneous arms. Pools of deep brown eyes looked up at him beneath thick lashes.

Fandral blinked, trying to recall the name of the dark vixen that he had shown the dancing moon to. "This is quiet a pleasant surprise," he smiled, striding to the table. He set to pouring them both a glass of wine as she slipped out from underneath the covers to join him.

"Do not worry about that now," she cooed, brushing her fingers along the nape of his neck.

Fandral inhaled at the tingling sensation, wiggling away from her touch. He handed her a glass of wine, placing a small kiss to the side of her frown. "There is never a need to rush ourselves to great pleasures," he told her, bringing the glass to his lips.

The door opened and the redheaded handmaiden entered. She closed the door with the heel of her foot, holding ropes in her hand. Fandral raised his brow, turning to face the smiling vixen before him.

"Thank you, Shaileen," she smirked, taking the ropes and tossing them onto the bed. Turning to Fandral she began to strip off her gown, letting it pool to the floor. He inhaled sharply as her companion began to do the same. "Care to join us?"

Fandral set the untouched glass down, numbly working at his belt when the seductress pulled his hands away and led him to the bed. Her mouth was hot against his, as he tongue pried open his lips. She tasted of spices, like cinnamon and a hint of basil. His hands reached for her waist but she was quick to respond, pulling away from him and shoving him onto the bed.

The redhead that he vaguely recalled was named Shaileen grabbed for his wrist and set to tying it against the bed frame. She leaned into him, placing her lips against his neck while the other Asgardian beauty worked on tying his other wrist, then both of his ankles. Once he was secured, they stepped away, smiling at him eagle-spread on the bed.

"Shaileen," cooed the dark-eyed woman, "did you bring it?"

Shaileen nodded, gathering her gowns and pulling something from within its folds. She stood up tall, her hair pooled behind her back. Fandral shifted in his hold, his fingers ached to run through her tresses. Until he saw the blade she firmly held in her hand.

His eyes quickly fell to the woman at her side. "I have always enjoyed the wild side of womanly pleasures but this is not my forte."

"Shut up," she hissed taking the blade from her friend. "Shaleen, you are done here."

The redhead nodded, scooping up her gown with her hands. Without looking at Fandral she scurried out of the room, licking the door behind her. Licking his lips Fandral swallowed hard, pulling his wrists against the rope.

"Struggle all you want," she told him, striding over to the table. "The ropes are enchanted."

He sharply turned his head toward her. "Listen, there has to have been a mistake."

The handmaiden ignored him, dipping the knife into his glass. She pulled the blade from its contents, a dark red liquid dropped from the tip. Spinning on her heel, she frowned, pointing the blade in his direction.

"The only mistake here is that I foolishly allowed myself to partake in your lies in attempt to bed other women." She strode over to him, crawling on top of his legs so that her naked center rested on his waist. "My father always warned me about men like you," she cooed, lifting up his tunic and running the tip of the blade along Gus stomach.

The liquid was cold as it pooled around the fabric of his trousers. To his surprise the woman leaned forward, placing her lips against his skin. Fandral inhaled sharply, growing angry at the throbbing down below as her tongue lashed out and licked the wine from his stomach. It felt sickening good.

She sat up, wiping at the corner of her lips with her fingers. "I'm going to punish you for your crimes against love."

"What crimes?" he asked, staring hard at the blade.

"You do not understand the meaning of love. You frolick in the sheets with another woman every night with no cares for her heart after," she spat, bringing the tip of her blade to his throat. Fandral tried not to swallow, afraid that if he moved the knife would cut into his skin. "You make false promise and speak in nothing but lies and for that you will be punished for your crimes are just as heinous as you are."

"Killing me will solve nothing," he quietly replied, reluctantly dragging his eyes from the blade to her gaze. "I only speak in the name of love. It is women that I love. I-"

"Silence," she hissed, pressure the knife in deeper. "If you speak only in the name of love pray tell," she slowly removed the blade from his neck, "what is my name?"

Fandral hesitated only for a fleeting moment but it was a moment too long. The woman shoved the blade into his chest, piercing into his heart. He screamed out, tossing his head back in pain. She scrambled off of him, ripping the blade free only to bring it down again.

He looked at his chest, sweat trickled down his temple as he struggled to see the damage done. There was nothing but a hole in his tunic, not even a scratch on his skin. Sighing in relief Fandral dropped his head onto the bed, screaming out once more as the knife dug into his chest.

"You have chosen the wrong woman to scorn. I am banishing you from Asgard, sending you into the pits of mortality." She stabbed him once more. A blinding light shot from the knife, engulfing Fandral as he screamed and thrashed against the bed. The woman smiled, her dark eyes glowing with pleasure. "Enjoy your time on Midgard. You will be there for a very long time."

With that she ripped the blade free tearing him from the bed where he landed hard onto solid ground. Fandral groaned, spitting up dirt that swirled around him. He slowly sat up, grasping at his chest to see that he was unwounded.

Relieved that he wasn't about to die, he exhaled upon the realization of where he was. In the far off distance was a massive city that cast long shadows across the wasteland he found himself in. Swallowing hard, he stood tall wiping the dirt from his knees and adjusting his unbuckled belt. With the swoop of his hand he brushed his golden hair from his eyes.

"Heimdall," he shouted, staring up into the cloudless sky. "Heimdall I know that you can hear me." Silence. "If this is because I bedded your sister I thought we were long since past that."

Fandral was only greeted by howling of the wind. "Fine," he grumbled to himself digging in his pocket to pull out his leather gloves. He slipped his hands through them, glaring at the city before him. This adventure would only become another tale for bards to sing.

* * *

The bar wasn't as crowded as it typically was on a Friday night. After the invasion people took to holing themselves up on the day of its anniversary. With the meteor shower in Europe on top of it, Annie was surprised that anyone was even out.

She tied her hair into a lose ponytail at the base of her neck and set to helping Rosie the owner of Sal's Bar and Grill, stock up on liquor at the bar. After Annie's fifth trip from the backroom a few new customers trickled in. With her arms full of bourbon bottles she greeted everyone with a trained smile to at least let them know that she knew they were there.

Sitting the bottles down at the bar she turned to a man who sat closest to her. "What can I get you?" she asked to the back of a blond man's head.

He swiveled in the stool, catching her off guard. It was like the reincarnation of Robin Hood came to life right before her. The man was tall, and muscular with hair that swooped dramatically to the side out of his piercing blue eyes. He had a goatee that came to a point and a small mustache that curled along the lines of his lips. Instantly_ Men in Tights_ played in Annie's head.

The guy even looked like he was pulled from the movie. He wore a leather vest over a dirty pirate-like shirt with leather gloves to match. His pants were a little snug and he wore boots that came to his knees. He flashed Annie a charming smile that slipped easily on his face. He had to be a model for romance novels.

"Uh, what can I get you?" she repeated, evening out her smile.

He looked her up and down, wiggling a thick eyebrow. "My," he gasped in an over-the-top English accent. Maybe he was an actor? "You are simply radiant. The kind of beauty that could tame a beast." His gloved hand flung to his chest. "I must know your name."

She pointed at her name tag. "Annie," she read, raising a dark eyebrow. "Now can I get your order?"

He inhaled deeply, stretching his arms wide. "It does smell wonderful here," he commented, his smile was crooked. "I would very much enjoy the quail and a pint of your strongest rum."

Annie pointed her brows up high. "We don't serve quail," she slowly replied, licking her lips as she eyed him carefully.

He frowned. "What do you serve?

She tugged on her bottom lip. "Chicken wings and pizza."

"Pee-zaaah," he sampled the word as though it were a foreign flavor on his tongue.

Annie ludicrously asked, "you've never had pizza?"

"I am afraid not," he replied. "Is it any good?"

"Well, yeah," shrugged Annie, leaning against the bar. "It's pizza."

"Then I shall have your finest pizza."

Annie smacked her lips together and nodded. She gave him one last look before heading to the kitchen. The head cook, Marcus took her order, and started putting together the ingredients for a pepperoni pizza. She spun on her heel nearly knocking into one of the waitresses, Rori. Her giant smile spread wide across her pallid complexion. Annie wished the girl would get some sun but she claimed to always be too busy studying to go to the beach.

"Did you see the Pirate of Penzance out there?" she giggled, slipping on a black apron over her dark green polo. "He must be here for that convention," Rori added, tying her truffle-colored hair up into a slick ponytail.

Annie poked her head out of the kitchen. Robin Hood was examining everything in front of him from the salt and pepper shakers to the wet naps. He sniffed the objects in his hand, testing them with his tongue, and frowning a lot of the time. Annie scrunched her nose thinking he looked lost if anything.

"What convention?" she asked turning back to face Rori.

The twenty-two year old shrugged, pulling back a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "There's a comic book convention downtown."

Annie felt her eyebrows tug together. "So?" That didn't explain why he was dressed the way he was.

"Sometimes people dress up as their favorite characters when they go," answered Rori, then continued, "maybe he's The Green Arrow."

She tried not to frown at the unfamiliar character name. Annie tugged at her lip, "people do that?" she inquired completely unaware that was something people actually did. "Like...adults?" He had to be in his mid-twenties, early thirties. Wasn't it a little immature to still be playing dress up?

Then again, Annie thought to herself, the bar had a lot of required dress up days. It wasn't exactly normal to go to work in February dressed as a bunny. Especially considering she wasn't exactly in her early twenties anymore.

"Yeah, sure. Adults, teenagers, kids...sometimes whole families go," she explained, pushing open the door. "He's kind of cute though," she winked, walking toward a table of three.

The door swung back and forth, revealing Robin Hood staring at the menu through the small crack. His thick blond brows were furrowed and he looked to be muttering to himself. The door ceased moving and annie chewed on the corner of her bottom lip for a few seconds, debating if she should figure out what his deal was. She scrapped her teeth against the dark red lipstick and sighed, pushing the door open.

He glanced up at her as she walked out of the kitchen. His blue eyes were incredibly bright despite the low lighting in the bar. Annie pursed her lips together, and filled up a glass of water, giving her an excuse to walk up to him. She set the glass in front of him, and he took it drinking greedily.

Annie waited for him to set the empty glass down before she spoke. "So, are you here for the convention?"

He knitted his brows together. "Thank you for that," he pointed at the glass, "it was very refreshing. Though I am terribly sorry for I do not know what this convention is that you speak of?"

Annie's lashes fluttered. Who talked like that anymore? If ever? She stared at him for a few moments, eyeing the way he politely waited for her to answer.

Her job brought in a lot of strange and unique clientele. Annie had met people from all over the world, heard many different accents spoken in broken English. Never had she came across someone who was pulled from a Shakespearean sonnet.

"It's like where people who..." her words trailed off. She really didn't care what it is. "So, then why are you dressed like that?"

He brought his gaze to his odd attire, looking up and down then back to her. His bottom lip dropped, his sharp chin jutted forward. The blue of his eyes dimmed favoring a shade of real. Annie blinked. So, okay he has really gorgeous eyes, she breathed, clearing her head. Don't be a creepy about it though, she reprimanded, tearing her gaze away.

In the far off corner near the big screen TV that played music videos out of sync to the music playing sat Lucky. He turned his gaze to his surly, slightly overweight friend that Annie could never remember his name. She felt unnerved and turned back to the confused man before her.

"This is how we dress from where I live," he answered, swooping his hand across his chest. "If anything it is everyone here who dresses strange."

Annie cocked a smile, amused at his retort. She opened her mouth to ask his name when Marcus stuck his head out the door. "Ann, I've been calling your name for like five minutes," he grumbled through his patchy dark beard.

She highly doubted it had been anywhere near five minutes. Exhaling loudly, she turned toward the kitchen tossing a quick glance over her shoulder at the stranger. There was something about him that sat at the back of her mind, too far out of reach. She licked the top of her lip and entered the brightly lit kitchen.


	4. 4: Like a Diamond in the Sky

**Like a Diamond in the Sky**

If there was anything about Midgard that Fandral enjoyed it was the women. They were all so different from the women in Asgard. While most woman on Asgard were thin and tall of fair complexion, women on Midgard were tall, short, small, wide. Some were curvy and lascivious while others resembled Volstagg if he were to don on a gown. He never grew tired of gazing at Midgardian beauties. And, who could fault him?

The barwench for example, Annie, she was ravishing. Fandral imagined that if he stood beside her she would barely reach his chest. What she lacked in height she made up for in beauty. Such a stunning creature of ravenesque locks that tumbled in waves behind her slender back and dark eyes so large he thought he might grow lost in them. She was the sort of woman that deserved to be bedded by a king. Perhaps an Asgardian Warrior would be close enough.

Annie returned with a silver platter covered in yellow and red mush in the shape of a triangle. The plate clattered against the wooden countertop, sliding toward him. He held out his gloved hands, stopping the so called "food" from falling on to his lap.

Fandral stared at the large, round meat of some sort that speckled the top of the breaded goo. Scrunching his face together, Fandral frowned. Annie nodded at him, smiling slightly. He inhaled deeply, knowing that he had to keep himself sustained for the long journey ahead of him.

He had endured much worse, he was sure. Licking his lips he peeled off his gloves, setting them aside. He turned to Annie when he found no silverware around him.

"You eat it with your hands," she informed him, staring at him with a wiry smirk. Someone shouted her name from across the bar. They both turned at the sound, Annie's face instantly fell. She inhaled deeply, forcing a wide smile, then calmly exhaled, "Lucky, what's up?"

A scrawny, pale-faced, redheaded imp of a man entered the tavern, smiling at Annie as though they were lovers. Fandral sighed, turning his attention from the two of them and regarded his pizza with disdain. Not only was he about to eat something that looked to be of great displeasure but he would have no one to turn to later for pleasure.

He ordered a couple of drinks and Annie set to work muttering responses to the innate questions that he asked her. Fandral knew a damsel in distress when he saw one. Her smile was plastered to her face, teeth clenched and jaw right. The sparkle he saw in her chocolate brown eyes had been replaced with a glazed over stare as she handed the lucky fellow his beverages.

"Twenty-two fifty" she told him, punching numbers into a strange contraption.

A small bell rang and a drawer popped open filled with coins and strips of paper. What an odd place to store money, Fandral thought as Annie took the note and slipped it inside the drawer. She began to count back his change when his scrawny arm shot across the counter and he wrapped his fingers against her wrist. Surprised, Annie looked up at him, furrowing her brows tightly together.

Not lovers, noted Fandral.

"Keep the change, Annie," he smiled on an over-the-top wink. Fandral kept from biting on his knuckle. He could not stand when amateurs winked. "You work hard, you deserve it."

She hesitated, then slipped the bill inside the contraption. Her fingers pushed against the drawer, slamming it shut. The man of luck widened his smile disregarding the grimace on her face.

"You deserve a lot of things," he continued.

Annie sighed at his advancements. "Lucky..."

"I know, I know," he defensively held up his hands, "you don't date customers. Can't blame a guy for trying." The man picked up his drinks, hesitant to leave to return to his friend. "What if I wasn't a customer anymore?"

"Annie?" piqued Fandral, interrupting the conversation between the two. They both turned to face him, the scrawny man beside him made a small choking sound. "I do not mean to be of a bother but I am quite parched and-"

"Oh, your rum!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, "Sorry, I'll get that for you now," she muttered turning away from the leech in front of her and facing the bottles behind the bar.

Without scanning the contents she quickly found what she needed. Her suitor watched with a transfixed gaze as she poured the dark liquid into a small glass. She tossed some ice into the drink and slipped something long and thin inside.

Fandral stared at the red material that stood out of his drink. He reached forward and flicked at it, watching it spin around his glass before falling out onto the counter. Leaning forward he inspected it, sniffing at the odd thing. It was nothing more than a rather small and skinny tube. Why was it in his drink?

"Dude, how drunk are you?" chuckled the man and for the first time Fandral heard his odd accent. It was nothing like Annie's or his other friends on Midgard. It was harsh to his ears.

"He's not from around here," defended Annie placing another red tube into his drink.

"I'm pretty sure people in the third world countries know what a straw is," the man claimed, shaking his head and walking back to his friend.

Fandral watched him take a seat in front of the moving pictures where his overly large friend turned to stare at the bar. The two of them snickered. Having enough Fandral returned his attention onto Annie. She was much better to look at as it were.

"He seems rather pleasant."

Annie rolled her eyes, leaning against the bar with her elbows and snorted indignantly. "He's harmless but a total tool." She blinked her gaze onto him, then quickly added, "stupid."

"Well, then, yes, he does sound like quite the tool," Fandral agreed and Annie shortly laughed.

He raised one brow at her in complete confusion. What did he say? He was agreeing with her after all. Women loved that.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, the smile still on her face. "You're just so...where did you say you were from again?"

"I actually didn't say. I am from-"

"Everyone quiet!" roared a portly man sitting near the wall with the moving picture. Fandral and Annie peered around, staring at what was being shown. "Yo Ann, can you turn it up?"

Obligingly, Annie reached underneath the bar. The moving pictures began to speak, drowning out the inaudible music around them. A woman's voice spoke as she explained an explosion that took place in Manhattan. Images showed people running and screaming in mass chaos through smoke caused by flames.

People in the bar began to mutter amongst themselves. The woman continued to say that some of the Avengers were on sight pulling people out of danger and helping firefighters to stop the fires. Fandral turned to ask Annie what was going on when he noticed all the color drained from her face.

"...the New York terrorist attacks that happened on this day three years ago a memorial was held at Stark Tower when a meteorite slammed into..."

"Oh God," exhaled Annie, ripping off her smock. She tossed it onto the bar and turned sharply into a pale girl with dark brow hair tied up. "Sorry, Rori, I have to go. Tell Rosie I-I just had to go."

"You're not seriously going out there?" the girl ludicrously asked, grabbing onto Annie's wrist. "Annie, it's-"

"Jessica is there," she hastily replied, twisting her arm free and running around the corner, "I have to."

"You can't get there fast enough taking a bus," came the voice of the man who didn't have much luck. "I'll drive you."

Annie hesitated and Fandral could see the war she raged inside until her friend piqued up, "take my car, it's fine." She grabbed for Annie's hand and steered her into the back room.

Fandral turned his attention back to the wall. He had to go with her. Those people were in trouble and needed help. He couldn't stay behind knowing that he had watched people flee in terror and did nothing to aid them. Standing tall, he fixed his tunic, grabbed his gloves and headed toward the swinging door that Annie had entered through.

She slammed it open, hitting him square in the face. Annie made a small screaming sound as she quickly knelt down to where he had fallen. Pain shot in between Fandral's eyes as he scrunched his nose and pinched the top.

"I am sorry! I didn't see you and then-"

"It is quite alright my lady," he waved her concern away and leapt to his feet. Holding his hand for her to take he smiled, "we have a duty to perform."

Annie rose to her feet, disregarding his hand. "Uh-"

"Annie," called out Lucky walking toward them. He flipped the collar of his jacket and raised both his brows in their direction. Looking back and forth between the two of them he asked her, "ready to go?"

Dangling a ring of oddly shaped bells she replied, "it's fine Lucky, I'm going to borrow Rori's car."

"Still you shouldn't go alone," he retorted, fixing the cuffs at his wrist.

"She won't be alone," swooped in Fandral. He glanced to her, his smile began to falter for the first time. There was no silent thank you upon her lip and there definitely was no glimmer of affection in her hard stare. He cleared his throat, continuing, "I will go with her."

Lucky looked him up and down, slowly smiling. "Listen Robin Hood, this isn't the time to play hero. Her sister is in trouble and it's best if she is with a friend."

Annie hesitated, then without a word walked between them both and strode toward the door. Fandral and Lucky turned toward one another, then quickly sped up to catch her. She remained quiet, pushing through the front and out into the cooling summer air.

* * *

Annie briskly walked to the parking lot, searching for Rori's green Volvo. She pressed the unlock button on the autostart pad attached to Rori's key chain. Two red lights flashed in front of her and she quickened her pace toward them.

Lucky and Robin Hood sprinted after her, stopping just as she opened the car door. "Annie, you're not going by yourself are you?" asked Lucky, his face hard to read in the dark.

She looked back and forth between the men. As much as she couldn't stand Lucky, he was right. If Manhattan was in a frenzy then going alone would be really dangerous. She would need someone who could push people out of their way and to carry Jess if she was hurt.

Obviously that wasn't going to be Lucky with his scrawny arms that were smaller than her own. She looked to the stranger with his medieval attire and comical mustache. His blue eyes shined at her in the flickering street light. There was something about his genuine concern that put her at ease. Besides, those arms looked as if they could lift a dead horse.

"I'm not going alone," she told Lucky, turning her gaze back onto Robin Hood. "Get in."

He smiled, quickly opening the car door and sliding into the passenger seat. Annie avoided Lucky's gaze and joined the stranger in Rori's car. She slammed the door shut, and started the car, pulling out so that Lucky had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit. Through the rear view mirror she saw him toss up his arms and from the way that his lips moved he was more than likely shouting her name. She kicked the car into drive and left the bar, peeling out into the street without looking behind.

As she had expected traffic was ridiculous. Every few minutes she would call Jessica's cell only to reach her voicemail. She tried to call Serah but would be left with the same result. Frustrated, Annie rolled down her window letting the cigarette smoke from nearby cars stuck in the traffic jam waft inside her car. She inhaled deeply, wishing that of all the things she gave up that smoking wasn't one of them.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek she tried to call Jess again. Of course, no answer. With a flick of her wrist Annie tossed her cell into the cupholder. If Jess was okay she would see that Annie had called and would call her back as soon as possible. It was pointless to keep trying. But if Jess didn't call back...

Her fingers clenched around the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Robin Hood glanced her way and Annie realized that she didn't even know the name of the guy sitting by her side. She decided talking to him would be just the kind of distraction that she needed.

"So, what should I call you?" she asked, blowing out hot air from her cheeks.

"You can call me whatever you like," he replied with a trained wink. Annie crinkled her brows and turned her attention back onto the red tail lights in front of her. He definitely had to be an actor. "My friends call me Fandral."

"Fandral," she repeated, testing the sound in her mouth. It was strange and not in the you get used to it sort of way.

He nodded. "Fandral the Dashing."

Annie choked back an awkward laugh. "Are you for real?"

Fandral knitted his thick blond brows together and pulled his lips into a frown. "If you are inquiring whether I am here or naught but in your imagination I can quite assure you that I am as real as real can be my fair lady."

"My fair lady..." she shook her head wondering if maybe all of this was some really twisted nightmare.

"What is this carriage? It's fascinating," he gasped, flipping up and down the visor, pulling out the mirror. He smiled at his reflection and started to comb at his beard with his his fingers. "Very fascinating."

Annie crinkled her brow, focusing hard on the traffic in front of her. "You don't have cars where you're from?"

He shook his head, flipping the visor back into place and turned his attention to the buttons on the passenger side door. "We have many magnificent contraptions but nothing quite like this," he told her pushing the window button so that it continuously rolled up and down.

She glanced over at him taking in a final look at his attire. It was the first time she noted the hole near his chest in his tunic and the shiny sheen splattered onto his vest like something sticky had spilled.

Maybe he is on something and is having delusions, Annie thought briefly thinking of the strange things her mind had come up with before. She blinked the images away as quickly as they had come. Part of her being able to move forward was to try and forget the past. There was no reason for her to dwell there anymore.

Still, she had to be careful. If he was on something and was going to crash soon she really didn't want to be there for it. Annie had her fair share of dealing with junkies coming down from their high, the last thing she needed was to be around some stranger who was tripping.

Tugging on her bottom lip Annie then decided to ask, "where are you from?" He turned his gaze from the window back to her, smiling so that she could see a full set of white teeth. He definitely wasn't homeless, that relaxed her a little, but not enough. "You said your clothes are common where you're from, which obviously isn't from here."

He rolled up the window, turning to face her with a wide smile. "I hail from-"

Crash!

The Buick in front of Annie slammed on its brakes steering into the oncoming traffic to avoid hitting the car in front of it. Annie held her breath, pushing as hard as she could on the brakes, hoping that the car behind her would react fast enough to stop. She exhaled loudly, turning to ask Fandral if he was okay when a large truck shoved into the Buick. Annie screamed as she helplessly watched the truck edge the car into the wall of the bridge.

The truck however didn't stop and several cars were speeding behind the area that it had cleared. Confused, Annie peered out in front of her seeing nothing unusual. A few people stepped outside of their cars, trying to get a better view when in the distance several vehicles lurched into the sky, falling down like rain.

"What the-"

Slam!

Annie hit her head hard against the steering wheel. Pain exploded between her eyes as head whipped back and smacked into the window. She could feel her brain push against her skull, as the taste of blood filled her mouth. Groaning, she turned to look behind her, glancing to see Fandral wiping at the wound on his upper left brow, when the car behind them pushed into her again.

"Fuck!" she shouted, unbuckling her seat belt and stepping out of the car.

Swallowing the bile that filled her throat she stormed to the driver side of the car ready to tear off some heads if need be when a meteor from the sky crashed onto the bridge. The ground underneath her feet sighed, violently shaking that she was thrown against the car that had rear-ended her. She weakly pulled herself up from the hood, turning at the screeching sound of tires against pavement.

Inhaling sharply she braced herself for impact when Fandral appeared, shoving her out of the way. He rolled her from the oncoming vehicle, careful not to hurt her. They landed near the wall of the bridge, Annie a few feet from where Fandral laid.

Grunting, she pushed herself onto her feet and stumbled to Fandral, helping him rise. He nodded to her, offering a small smile when the car that had almost hit them for the third time pushed into Rori's car. It scrapped against the bumper, shoving the green Volvo into a passing semi. Annie gasped, covering her mouth her her hands as Rori's car slammed into several more.

"What the hell is going on!?" she screamed as people began to pour out of their vehicles and started to run toward them.

"Whatever it is I think we should run," replied Fandral grabbing her gently by the elbow.

"A meteor hit that side of the bridge," she pointed out, shoving her finger toward the flames.

Fandral turned behind him, looking into the river below. His eyes glanced up at the cables, then to the flames and bounced to whatever was causing people to panic. His chest pushed forward as he exhaled, trying to figure out how to get them to safety.

The ground shook again and Annie fell forward, bumping into Fandral. He held onto her waist, keeping her from stumbling into traffic. The bridge groaned. Annie looked up, crying out as the cables on the bridge were starting to snap one by one.

Cars with no one in them started to roll down the bridge slamming and shoving into other vehicles and running over pedestrians. Annie turned her face into Fandral's sticky leather jacket as a small car pushed a frantic woman into another car. Fandral moved Annie from him, and climbed onto the wall, holding out his gloved hand for her to take.

She reached up, taking his grasp in hers. He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her up, holding her close to him as he held onto a cable for support. The bridge began to slant, breaking apart further down. People began to run upward, while others continued to run from whatever had caused the traffic jam to begin with.

"What is going on?" she asked again, knowing that Fandral would have no idea. "What do we do?"

To her surprise Fandral tossed her an easy smile. "Have you ever swung into the lakes from a rope as a child?" Slowly, Annie nodded carefully looking behind her shoulder at the freezing cold river below them.

"Are you fucking crazy!?" She screamed turning her gaze back toward the chaos before them. "That fall will kill us and if it doesn't the cold will."

"Trust me, Annie. It will be alright."

She opened her mouth to retort when another explosion caused her to fly into Fandral. He held onto her tighter, pressing his chin against the top of her head. Closing her eyes she concentrated on breathing, muttering a silent promise that if she survived she would do volunteer work twice a week. Or, donate to a children's hospital instead of buying those really cute boots at Bloomingdale's.

Her promises were cut short as the bridge lurched downward and her feet were no longer on the ground. Screaming she clutched her arms around Fandral's neck as he held onto her and the cable with ease. Annie could hear the cries and screeching of pedestrians and cars falling off the bridge and plummeting into the water. She felt the tears stream down her face knowing that she and Fandral were postponing the inevitable.

"Whatever happens, do not let go," he told her in her ear, tightening his grip around her waist. Annie nodded her head, but remained silent. "Promise me, Annie."

" Okay!" she screamed at him, refusing to open her eyes. "I won't let-"

The cable Fandral held onto snapped. Her stomach dropped to her feet. They swung along the side of the breaking bridge and against her will Annie peeked to see it hanging on by sparking cables and broken concrete. The bridge dangled dangerously over the water as people struggled to hold on. She closed her eyes, refusing to meet their frightened gaze when suddenly she was overtaken by the cold.

Water poured in every orifice, choking down her throat as Annie struggled to keep her mind calm. The cold sent her body into shock, her thoughts instantly went numb. Her arms refused to move and her brain refused to acknowledge that they weren't moving. She wasn't sure if Fandral still had a hold on her or if she was sinking to the bottom.

Then suddenly Annie felt the slapping wind on her face as she spit up water from her nose and mouth. Fandral tossed her onto the river bank, collapsing beside her. The palms of her hands dug into the sandy surface as her stomach twisted and she retched, spilling water onto the sandy surface. Weakly she collapsed, rolling onto her back and blankly staring at the smoke-filled sky.

In the distance Annie could hear the bridge plunge into the river. People screamed. Helicopters and sirens sounded in the background like a repetitive chorus. Slowly, Annie blinked. Her lashes froze together leaving her in a pit of darkness with only the song of a dying city to put her to sleep.

* * *

Fandral lifted his head from the sandy beach, coughing at the remains of water lodged in his throat. His bones ached from the never ending cold. Perhaps swinging from a rope made of wire into a freezing river was not the best of his ideas. He glanced behind his shoulders taking in the chaos that ensued.

The flames set ablaze everything in its path. People dangled from the bridge, holding on in hope that someone might rescue them. Some struggled for far too long, plummeting into the frigid waters below. Their screams filled the air like a constant buzzing at the background of a banquet. It hummed throughout the evening despite how hard one tried to ignore it.

Fandral swung his head back to his hands and pushed himself onto his knees. Exhaling he craned his neck to ease the pinching pain on his side when he spotted Annie's body laying in the sand.

His heart lurched into his stomach as he scrambled on his hands and knees to where she laid. Slipping one hand underneath her neck he propped her into a sitting position, using his knees to support her head. He held onto her tightly while peeling off the gloves on his other hand off with his teeth. Quickly he pressed his bare fingers against her unusually pale neck, searching for a pulse.

"No, Annie you cannot do this," he told her laying her flat onto the sand.

Carefully, Fandral tilted her head back and began to pump at her chest. He leaned forward, inches from her purple lips when her body jolted forward and she smacked her head against his. Wincing at the sharp pain that surged inside his brain, Fandral fell backwards as Annie spit out the remaining water that filled her lungs.

Pushing aside his own discomfort he rushed to her side gently patting her back as she gasped for air. "Can you hear me, Annie?" he asked, pulling the scraggly wet strands of hair out of her face.

Annie nodded, adjusting her large eyes to the broken bridge. Inhaling deeply she croaked in between swallows, "what just happened?"

Fandral tore his gaze from Annie's trembling lips and he slowly moved his hand from her back. "I am afraid I do not know," he replied, sitting on the beach beside her.

She leaned onto his shoulder, and Fandral gently wrapped his arm around her. He had promised to keep her safe and safe he would keep her until she found her sister. Annie had asked him if he knew what happened and he hoped that he had told the truth when he told her that he did not know. If Fandral had lied and in fact did know what happened then the chances of Annie's sister being alive were very slim.

After all, this wasn't the first time that Fandral had seen the stars falling.

* * *

**Reviews**

**Why Fireflies Flash**: I absolutely fell in love with him during the movie Thor, especially during a deleted scene where they're going back to Asgard and just before he leaves he kisses Darcy's hand and she's just absolutely smitten. And thank you! That's definitely my goal to make this much funnier than my typical stuff. Of course it'll be serious when need be but for the most part it'll be fairly lighthearted (:

**Kieekaa**: you sound like the old Grandma in the Croods. More. I need moreeee.

**Vicvic221**: You lovely human you, I adore you. I'm relieved to know that at least those who are reading it are enjoying it. I definitely went into this knowing it wouldn't be as big as CtS but I'm loving writing it. Fandral is just so much fun. He is so flawed, he is perfect. Haha I'll definitely enjoy playing with his vanity more.

**ReadingConundrum**: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it! And it definitely won't be easy to woo her. Haha

**OhHaiSerah**: Not going to lie I laughed at that too because come on it was pretty cute. Lol


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